I admit it. I sing the praises of Facebook. Sometimes. While I completely understand the reluctance of some to succumb, I have willingly joined the ranks, and in the process, have managed to both maintain and re-establish contact with people from my past who I otherwise probably would never have seen again.
Prime example of this: my best friend from early high school. I’ll take you back to 1993, the start of Year 6 for me. Rather than sticking out another year of my own personal hell at my local primary school, I bailed and traded it for my future high school, a small private girls’ school in the inner suburbs of Melbourne. This school, although without a doubt elitist and snobby, introduced me to something that would have an enormous impact on the rest of my life: the German language. Yes, that’s where it all started. Year 6C. Ah, the memories. The other great thing about 1993 was that I met one of my best friends from my primary school days. Ingrid. From about two weeks into year 6 until the end of year 7, we were nigh on inseparable. We were at first united by our common love (based on our shared talent) for German, and a strong friendship grew from there: we had tween-ish nicknames for each other, knew each other’s families inside out, spent many a weekend together, helped each other to cheat on our Year 7 German teacher’s evil vocabulary tests, and even created our own Calligraphy club at school – consisting of her and me.
Anyway, unfortunately at the end of year 8, her family relocated back to Sydney, and somehow, despite our closeness, we lost contact. Sure, we heard bits and pieces about each other from friends of mutual friends, but nothing significant.
Then came FB. I noticed about four months ago that Sarah, a friend of mine from way back – we went to kinder, primary school and high school together, and even the same uni – had added Ingrid as a friend! Well, there was no way I was going to miss this opportunity. I added her also and so the reconnection process began. We emailed, messaged and compared “what-I’ve-been-doing-for-the-last-ten-years” stories, and discovered that we’d both changed an incredible lot since high school. Figures. Anyway, she had recently got married, and was headed over to Europe with her husband, and they were planning to go to Turkey for Anzac Day. Coincidence! So was I! From there, it was a no-brainer that of course we would meet up in Istanbul. We traded mobile numbers and went from there.
Imagine my surprise when, while waiting in the security queue at Anzac Cove, my phone rings: the display reads Ingrid. I answer, and discover that she’s already inside the security area, and bored, so we arranged for her to come down to security and meet me there.
And seriously, it was as if no time had passed at all. I recognised her instantly, and after sticking with my group for a while to secure a place in the grandstand for the overnight ordeal, I found Ingrid and her group and settled in with them for a good chat for a while. It was great to catch up, and I discovered that although we hadn’t seen each other in over a decade, nothing much had really changed: we got on just as well that afternoon in Turkey as we had all those carefree afternoons in 1993 and 1994 in Melbourne.
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